


Filling the Blanks

by youjik33



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjik33/pseuds/youjik33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders and Cavendish Hawke spend the night together. Mostly smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filling the Blanks

Cavendish Hawke somehow managed not to stumble as he closed the door of the clinic behind him, even though his knees felt watery and his lips still tingled from the unexpected kiss. His two companions watched him with some curiosity, Merrill's luminous eyes wide in confusion, Isabela's narrowed as she quickly drew her conclusions.

Hawke squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. "I think," he said, "I had better head home."

"Hot date tonight, hmm?" Isabela asked knowingly.

"I hope so," Hawke replied. Trying to deny it would only lead to more questions; he'd learned this by now.

"Really! A date? With whom?" Merrill asked in her lilting accent. "You don't know many girls, besides us..."

Isabela laughed heartily at that. "Oh, Merrill, _honestly,_ sometimes I wonder how you could possibly have survived three years in Lowtown and still be so... _sheltered._ "

"I don't see what's so funny," Merill grumbled as they headed up the stairs into Lowtown. "It was a perfectly reasonable question."

"Of course it was," Isabela chuckled. Hawke, for his part, was trying to ignore them – not a difficult task; all he could seem to think about just now was the frantic crush of lips, the hand on the back of his neck, the feel of a stubbled cheek pressed against his own.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" he asked Merrill as they emerged into the sunlight.

"That's sweet of you, but there's no need. I'm not some kind of... of wilting _flower._ " She shot Isabela a look as she said this, probably intending to be scathing but merely coming across as vaguely adorable. 

"Do you need anything, Hawke?"Isabela asked. He was about to ask what she meant by that when she continued. "I mean, Maker only knows you haven't exactly seen a lot of action these past three years, I thought you might need to borrow some... lubrication."

"Lubrication? Have you got a squeaky door?"

" _No_ , Merrill," Hawke sighed. "I'll... explain to you later, all right?"

"I'd be very happy to explain everything," Isabela offered brightly. "With diagrams, if necessary."

This seemed like a very good time to get out of there. "Thank you for the offer, Isabela, but I should be all right on that front. You two... have fun."

"I should be saying that to you," Isabela called to his back as he walked away as quickly as possible while maintaining his dignity.

 

He trudged a vague lap around the Hightown market first, breathing the fresh air and trying to clear his head. Out here, in the clean, bright streets, where the breeze didn't carry the scent of sewage and rot, it was easy to believe he'd imagined the whole thing. But the phantom memory of that kiss was still on his lips – a kiss that was hard and desperate and passionate and wholly unexpected. That three years of vague flirtation and meaningful glances could come to this, so suddenly, it was... "magical" was the word that came to mind, and he laughed aloud despite himself, drawing a few curious glances from shoppers and merchants. Surely anyone who could use that word in this context hadn't had any experience with real magic.

The sun was still distressingly high in the sky when Hawke did return home. He changed into comfortable clothing, ate a dinner he barely tasted, took a bath, and tried to hide his relief when his mother announced that she would be going out for the evening; he told Bodahn as casually as possible to send any visitors upstairs and then headed for his room, where he spent several minutes vainly attempting to read Brother Genitivi's _The Pursuit of Knowledge_ before giving up and simply pacing.

Then he heard a sound that made his heart leap into his throat: the unmistakable thud of boots on carpeted floors. He turned in time to see Anders step through the doorway.

"You're here," Hawke managed. "I wasn't sure you would come."

A ghost of a smile played across the mage's face. "Justice does not approve of my obsession with you. He believes you are a distraction." He stepped closer. "It is one of the few things on which he and I disagree."

Hawke shifted uncomfortably. He had been trying to put the spirit's presence out of his mind. "So he's kind of... an unwilling participant in our threesome?"

A troubled look knit Anders' dark brows for a moment. "Please don't call it that." He stepped closer, voice even and serious. "When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the Templars too much power if there was something you couldn't stand to lose." He swallowed and continued with apparent difficulty, gaze dropping to focus somewhere on the rug patterns. "It would kill me to lose you."

"You aren't going to lose me," Hawke swore, closing the distance between them with one swift step. There was a heat rising in the room, something more powerful than the fire in the grate. Anders raised his chin hesitantly, his golden eyes seeking Hawke's grey ones.

"No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love," Anders whispered hoarsely. His hand came up to cup Hawke's cheek and Hawke's eyes slid closed.

"This is the rule I will most cherish breaking," the mage murmured as their mouths met.

Hawke could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. This was different from that frantic embrace in Darktown – slower, lingering, but no less passionate. When the kiss finally broke he took Anders' hand in his and drew him back towards the bed with a confidence he was surprised to possess.

Hawke lost track of time as they kissed. His hands roamed slowly across the expanse of Anders' back – surprisingly broad – and the mage's knee was between his legs, not nudging, just _there._ His fingers tangled in Anders' shaggy blond hair as he stroked the back of his neck. Anders broke the kiss to nuzzle gently at his throat, lips and tongue working against the juncture of his jaw. Hawke had moved his hands to the front of Anders' robe when a new problem suddenly presented itself.

"Ah," he murmured. "I hate to interrupt, but... how the blazes do you get this thing off?"

He felt Anders smile against the side of his neck before pulling back and sliding to his feet. "It's easier than it looks," he explained, undoing a clasp at his neck and sliding his jacket down his arms. It fell to the floor, and the long robe that had been underneath followed it shortly after.

"Are you sure," Hawke asked as Anders pulled the final layer off over his head, "That isn't needlessly complicated? I can't imagine what using the privy must be like."

"Not as bad as using it when wearing full plate, I'm sure," Anders said, but Hawke barely heard him because he was finally seeing the other man shirtless for the first time. He was lean, but with hard muscle in his arms, something Hawke wouldn't have expected from a healer, and there was a little line of hair running down from his navel and disappearing into his trousers that was quite distracting.

Anders settled on the edge of the mattress and began unlacing his boots, and Hawke managed to regain his senses for the moment. His mouth had gone dry, and he wet his lips before teasing, "At least I didn't wear my plate to a romantic tryst."

"A tryst!" Anders chuckled. "Is that what this is? That makes it sound so secretive."

"Well, it's not like I ran around Hightown shouting about it to the world," Hawke said, leaning over to kiss the back of Anders' neck because he just couldn't help himself any more. This elicited such a delicious-sounding gasp that he did it again. "Though Isabela knows, so I suppose it's going to be common knowledge by morning."

"That's all right with you?"

"Of course it is." Hawke wrapped his arms around Anders from behind, nuzzling the top of his spine. Anders' second boot slipped from his fingers and thudded against the floor.

"She's going to ask you all kinds of embarrassing questions," he said breathlessly.

"That's all right." Hawke slid his right palm down Anders' chest until his thumb touched that downy hair under his navel. He popped the button on Anders' pants and kept following that trail of hair, until it grew dense under his fingertips and his knuckles brushed against the waiting cock, hard and warm and straining against the fabric.

It took a little maneuvering, but Hawke managed to get Anders' pants open far enough to draw his erection out into the open and wrap his fingers around it. The mage's breath hitched as Hawke rubbed his thumb over the bead of liquid gathered at the head, and morphed quickly into shallow panting when Hawke began pumping his hand. He was so _quiet_ , though, that it was a bit disconcerting – certainly a huge change from the whores Hawke had spent occasional nights with in the Blooming Rose over the last few years, who tended to veer toward the theatrically noisy.

Even so, there was no doubt he was enjoying himself. Hawke's left arm was still wrapped tightly around Anders' chest and he could feel the other man's frantic heartbeat.

"Hawke, "Anders gasped after a moment, fingers clutching desperately at the wrist that was pumping him. "Cav... Cavendish." The name seem to come a little awkwardly to him, but Hawke loved the sound of it. He rarely heard his given name spoken aloud, even by his own family. "I'm going to..."

"That's the idea," Hawke said, and, on a whim, bit down gently on Anders' ear.

"Oh, Maker," Anders sighed, and then Hawke felt the cock in his hand stiffen and twitch. A moment later warm liquid was trickling down his fingers, and Anders sagged in his arms.

They sat there for a few moments while Anders caught his breath. Then he stood, carefully, as though he didn't quite expect his legs to hold his weight. While he kicked his pants to the floor Hawke grabbed a rag from the nightstand and wiped off his hand.

Anders turned, face flushed. "Thank you," he said. "That was-" Then he stopped, frowning. "Why are you still dressed?"

"I'm not sure," Hawke admitted. "Maybe because no one has taken my pants off for me."

"You're a grown man, I'd think you could handle it yourself," Anders said, but he was smiling, and seemed more than happy to accept that as an invitation. Hawke's clothing was on the floor within moments and Anders had settled between his legs, kissing and nipping his way down Hawke's chest with almost agonizing slowness. He spent a long time sucking on the jut of Hawke's collarbone once he'd seen the way it made him squirm.

"Maker have mercy," Hawke muttered when Anders paused to run his tongue in a circle around his belly button. This prompted a laugh from the other man that vibrated where his mouth pressed against Hawke's stomach.

"I haven't done this in a long time," Anders admitted as his hand closed around the base of Hawke's erection. "I feel out of practice."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Hawke insisted, a little note of pleading creeping into his voice despite himself.

Anders tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear, gave Hawke a surprisingly shy smile, and bent his head. His tongue touched the underside of Hawke's cock first, then his lips engulfed the tip and slid gradually downward. Hawke's head fell back onto the pillow and his eyes closed as Anders proved that he hadn't forgotten his technique.

Hawke's hands seemed to find Anders' hair on their own, and he couldn't quite resist the urge to dig his fingers into the other man's scalp. Anders didn't complain or hesitate, and soon Hawke was groaning the other man's name over and over, like some kind of litany, like it was the only word that mattered.

Hawke opened his eyes after a moment and looked down at his own erection disappearing into Anders' eager mouth. He caught himself in time to grunt out a word of warning before he came in a rush, and the other man's eyes flickered up to meet his as he swallowed it all easily.

Anders sat up after a moment, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking his lips. Hawke felt too drained to move just yet, and just lay back, watching him with half-lidded eyes. "You look smug," he said as Anders stretched out on the mattress beside him.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

Hawke rolled onto his side and ran his fingers lightly over Anders' cheek. He'd never seen the mage like this – he looked secure, relaxed, happy. Hawke kissed him, tasting the salty flavor of his own seed on the other man's lips. "I'd like to return the favor soon," he murmured.

"I'm looking forward to it."

But for the moment they just lay there, facing each other, sharing one another's body heat, arms thrown loosely across each other's waists. Hawke tried to remember the last time he'd been in bed with someone he'd really cared about, and failed.

"I love you," Anders said suddenly. The words sent a thrill through Hawke – they weren't surprising, not precisely, but hearing them spoken aloud gave him a rush of excitement. Anders continued in a rush, his voice low and intense. "I've been holding back from saying that. You should have a normal life, not be tied down to a fugitive with no future. But I don't ever want to leave you."  
It was clear from his tone that he'd been thinking about this for a long time. Hawke gripped his shoulder and said firmly, "Don't ever leave."

"Do you mean that?" Anders was smiling, but there was something clouding his eyes; worry, or fear, or both. "Would you have me here, living with you? Would you tell the world, the knight-commander, that you love an apostate and would stand beside him?"

"I want you right here, until the day we die." He meant it. Oh, Maker, he really meant it, and he could only pray silently that Anders believed him.

"For three years I have lain awake every night, aching for you," Anders replied, and then his serious demeanor softened slightly, a hint of wryness creeping into his voice. "I'm still terrified I'll wake up."

Hawke pulled him close and kissed him again, tongue pushing into the other man's mouth as he felt Anders' hands slide down his body, where his cock was quickly hardening again, ready for another round-

 

"Enough!" Seeker Cassandra's eyes were round as dinner plates, and twin spots of red colored her high cheekbones. "You can't- You couldn't possibly-" she spluttered before drawing a deep breath and regaining her composure. "You weren't _there_ , certainly."

"Of course I wasn't," Varric snorted, waving a gloved hand dismissively. "But I can make some pretty good guesses, can't I? I like to think I'm good at filling in the blanks."

"That the Champion and the apostate Anders were lovers is admittedly of some significance, but I don't see why you felt I had to know all the details," she snapped.

Varric laughed. "If you didn't want to hear about it, you had plenty of opportunity to stop me, Seeker."

She let it go. He certainly had a point.

  

**Author's Note:**

> Two conversations Anders and Hawke have here are lifted directly from game dialogue - the one immediately following Anders' arrival, and the one post-blowjob, though I took some artistic liscence and let them have the second while lying around naked in bed. In-game, it's had while fully clothed and standing in front of the fireplace in Hawke's room. Also, yes, Cavendish doesn't look like the default Hawke at all, and does have grey eyes.
> 
> Apologies to Merrill... I think I made her a bit more clueless than she really is, but I enjoyed writing that dialogue too much to change it.


End file.
